moon and phase

At long last--I've only been calling frantically around a three-county area for six weeks--I think I have a mason coming to repair the falling blocks of stone around my front door. He's going to stop by this evening as he and his wife return from the state fair; I'll wait to exhale until he says for sure that he can and will do the job, and gives me a firm date, but I do feel less panicky than I did. There's nothing like opening your front door and having a block of stone crash and break in two right in front of your feet . . .

tubbysnuggles asked what my house looks like, so here it is. The shrubs looked better before I trimmed them, but they'll grow back soon enough. Once the repairs are done, I'm going to treat myself to a nicer porch light; I've hated this dinky plastic one ever since I bought the house, but never quite got around to replacing it. The house was built in 1958 of local stone; I have a triple-width and double-depth lot, as do all the houses on this street. The extra elbow room is a great luxury, and believe me, I do know that--so when I whine about the impending retirement-complex construction, you should probably take it with several grains of your favorite seasoning.

For my own reference, more than anyone else's entertainment, here are "before" pictures of my back yard--looking across the open space where the retirement complex will go. The foreground and middle-ground oak trees are mine; you can see the doomed cedars beyond them. My property line runs straight across, about a foot in front of the cedars.

It was such a shock to learn that the cemetery was selling off land for development; this town is not shrinking, and there isn't much space left except this strip along the property line. I still don't buy the argument that "everyone wants to be buried in multi-level below-ground mausoleums now," which is what the developer claims . . . but the city planning commission bought it, and that's all that matters. *sigh*

I'm a sucker for compact midcentury ranch houses--I grew up in one, and it's still my idea of what a REAL house ought to be. So when I saw this one, I threw all common sense out the window, didn't ask enough questions about maintaining the stonework . . . and have enjoyed my little money pit every minute of the past seven years, except of course when paying the repair bills.

Tall greenery, yes indeed. I also need to do some screen planting on the east, where my neighbors have an extremely unsightly yard. I hate to admit it, but the retirement complex will probably be nicer to look at than that. *grump*

I am much comforted this morning, after talking to the stonemason; he's one of those utterly reliable, older rural men who make me feel that the world isn't such a bad place after all. Plus, men like that know other men who do necessary things (such as repairing the settling under my north and south doors). Now, if I had only been smart enough to call him six months ago . . .

The only thing holding me back on planting right now is that the development will run *right* to my property line--I don't trust the construction company enough to risk losing expensive new plants to a careless dozer operator.

The inside is pretty darn cute, too--I still have the original knotty-pine walls in the dining room, and knotty-pine cabinets in the kitchen. I started out wanting to do pure midcentury modern all through, but then I realized just how uncomfortable those Eames chairs are . . .